A Queen's Call
by Alex Foster
Summary: After meeting a mysterious traveler named Elle Bishop, Apprentice Claire Bennet is drawn into a conspiracy hundreds of years old that leads her to question everything she's ever been told about abilities and the kings and wizards of old. Fantasy AU
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Queen's Call

Author: Alex Foster

Characters/Pairing: Claire/Elle

Category: FantasyAU, Adventure, Romance

Rating: R for violence and sexual situations

Summary: Apprentice Claire Bennet wants nothing more than to finish her studies of enhanced humans and gain a position within the Company. But after meeting Elle Bishop, a mysterious traveler with an agenda of her own, Claire is drawn into a conspiracy hundreds of years old that leads her to question everything she's ever been told about abilities and the kings and wizards of old.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by NBC. No money is being made and no infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: This story is the accumulation of several different things. It's an ode to the wild AUs that seem so popular in other fandoms (looking at you QaF, BBT, and Glee) but never seemed to find a foothold in the Heroes fandom. It's my attempt to do something different than my past Heroes fics while still playing with the same characters I enjoy so much (with some surprise twists along the way). And it's a chance for me to do some old fashion world building again. This will be a long fic and I hope you enjoy reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you.

…

…

The very ink with which history is written is merely fluid prejudice.

**Mark Twain**

…

…

_The common thought in academia today is that we shall never know absolute truth. Too much time has passed, too much history has been lost to internal strife, for us to ever know what transpired between our kind and theirs._

_Once there were kings, queens, and wizards but now only we remain._

Apprentice First Class Claire Bennet studied the line she just wrote, ink dripping from her pen, and scratched it through. She had crossed out three other lines above that scribble. She flexed her hand and tried again.

_Centuries ago the ruling class entered into a symbiotic relationship with magic users, as they were called in the day, to unite the known world under one order. For generations that arrangement stood until the ruling class grew jealous of their magic users and staged an uprising against them._

Claire sighed. She sounded like a freshman copying a history book. This thesis needed to impress the entire board if she hoped to gain a position within the Company after graduation.

Claire thought of scratching out that line too but reconsidered. She could always go back and edit, she figured. The deadline was after the upcoming Green God Festival but she needed some sort of progress before then—even if it was only for her peace of mind.

Capping her ink well and blowing on the paper before folding it, she prepared to leave her isolated spot on the campus grounds. Lessons were long over for the lower classes and she liked the peace to focus and work. She shoved the folded draft roughly into her satchel and placed the strap over her shoulder. Not that she was getting much work done.

Claire pushed to her feet, brushed grass and leaves from her skirt, and started across the grounds. The Company's deadline was after the festival season but her personal deadline was sooner than that. If she couldn't make clear progress on the theme for her thesis in the next sevenday she worried it wouldn't happen at all.

There were many candidates and the Company only accepted a select few every term.

Even with her family connections, Claire didn't have a lock. Chairwoman Petrelli offered very little slack when it came to achievements and even less for Claire. Should their family relation ever come to light neither wanted the appearance of favoritism. Peter had guided her through her first years of study and let her escape with more than Angela would be pleased to know.

Her new guide and teacher expected results and hard work. Even though it was not her specialty, he was hunter trained and treated her as such. Just because she wanted to waste her life in a school tower learning about abilities wasn't an excuse to forgo learning how to defend herself. At least that was what he said.

She had her father to thank for arranging Claude Rains as a guide.

The sun was low in the sky and cast an orange-yellow glow over the grounds as she walked. There was a chill in the air, signaling the approaching harvest season, and a sense of coming excitement. If she wasn't so engrossed in her thesis, Claire knew she'd be feeling it too. This was always the best time of year for the school and city as a whole. Festival time. Farmers brought in crops to sell at market and students, both commoners and specials, readied themselves for advancement or graduation.

She hadn't been in the city for weeks but knew there were always parties and general revelry to be found in the name of the Green God's death. This was the world's last gasp of life before winter.

Claire planned on enjoying the season next year, safe with a position in the Company.

Walking past the building for historical studies, her specialty, she continued on to the single level structure away from the main pathway. It lacked the finery or architectural beauty of the other buildings and the students there seemed to take an almost pride in that distinction.

Claire stepped to the side as the last class of the day let out and people started filing past. She saw several final year students she knew and smiled in greeting but didn't stop to talk. Pushing through the crowd, Claire entered the Hunters building and started down the main hall.

It was tempting to duck into the teacher's wing and find Claude Rains, but she kept walking instead to the main library. Unlike the open and bright feel of the other buildings on campus this enclave favored narrowed corridors, dark mahogany wood, and wall tapestries that told stories from long ago when enhanced humans were the majority and trained Hunters were employed by the monarchy to catch rogues.

The historian in Claire preferred those stories most of all.

Now the hunters were mostly weapon masters for rich families or hired protection used by banks or businesses. They, like the rest of the university, were just shades of their original intentions. Claire knew the Council of United Lands still kept Company Hunters on retainer—her father was one of them—but the last time they were actually called upon was over two hundred years ago.

She passed several small rooms with heavy mats lining the floor and winced with the realization she had physical training with Claude in another day. That man was determined to get her to change her major to his field of specialty. If she didn't know her father so well she would have guessed that was his intention by arranging Claude to walk her through the application process.

Claude Rains was many things but his history ran deep in the Company and had enough experience and connections to give her an edge. She suspected he was also among the few to guess her hidden ability was more than just basic healing—either that or he was truly sadistic with their training swords. Not even Peter knew she could regenerate limbs.

As she walked, Claire flexed her toes inside her boots. Her ability had manifested during her freshmen year and mostly in secret she began pushing herself to learn the full range of her power. She still wasn't quite sure she'd found the limit but toes and fingers could regrow.

It was around then that she started spending more time with the History students and libraries. She asked questions and read whatever she could about abilities, dating all the way back to the time of kings, but couldn't find anything like her power. Healing abilities, yes, but nothing as individualized as hers.

Claire walked into the library and brought her thoughts back to the present. The Hunters library wasn't the largest on campus but she rather enjoyed that fact. Since most of her work was done after class hours she had the room to herself.

Keeping with the appearance of the rest of the enclave, the library was carved from dark wood with rows of books neatly spaced around a U shaped reading area. Oil lamps on each table provided more than adequate light, even at night. Over the last few months of thesis preparation, Claire had developed appreciation for the cozy atmosphere of the library.

Claire stopped at the front counter and opened her satchel. The custodian was off duty so Claire left the two books she was returning on the desk. One was required reading from Claude, _An Examination of the Royal Rebellion_, and the other, _Register of Rare Abilities_, was for her personal studies.

She briefly considered making use of the quiet and one of the tables in the back to try and start her thesis again. The brief walk from the courtyard hadn't sparked her inspiration though so she decided to wait. Perhaps at the dormitory she'd think of the perfect opening.

"There you are," a voice called out, much too loud for a library.

Claire turned and saw Daphne Millbrook headed straight for her. Fair skinned and haired, she wore the red robes of a teacher's assistant.

"I've been looking all over campus for you," she said. "I've been at it for almost a full minute now."

"Is there a problem?"

"Yeah." Daphne jabbed a finger against Claire's chest. "Glasses are up at The One Eyed Dog and I drew the short straw to drag you down there."

Claire gave her a look. "Thank you for the offer but I can't."

Daphne started walking easily backward, keeping pace and staying in front of her. "No, no. This is not a yes or no question. You're going because you've been growing roots here in the school. Now, you can either travel there at your normal speed or mine. And I think your stomach would appreciate yours better."

Claire stopped in the corridor and regarded her friend. Daphne was older than most final level students by several years but she had remained friendly with a select few of her lower classmates. Hunters had found her in the countryside and brought her to the school after her abilities had already manifested. The lack of Company oversight in her youth had imparted a streak of independence not often seen in the school. Students that felt like outcasts among their peers appreciated her for that and she seemed to return the feeling. Unlike Claire she had never lobbied for a position within the Company.

Claire crossed her arms defiantly. "What if I like my roots here?"

Daphne's lips quirked. "Then it is up to your friends to water them from time to time with honey mead and fire water."

Claire adjusted the bag over her shoulder and let out a long breath. "One drink. I have my assignments from Professor Rains to finish."

Daphne spun to walk beside her, throwing an arm around her shoulders as she did so. "Rains' assignments are going to finish _you_ one day."

…

…

The One Eyed Dog was a freestanding inn and tavern just off campus. A bridge away from the school proper it sat on the outskirts of the city and catered primarily to students and teachers. Big enough to sport two bars at either end of the main room and seating for a couple hundred it was a hub of activity all year long.

It was here that freshmen came to learn the ropes from world-weary second years. End of termers came to toast farewell to friends and school before heading out on brand new ventures thanks to higher education. And professors gathered at the long tables in the back to talk lesson plans and which had landed the most promising apprentices.

Outside it looked as old as the grand city itself—with white washed stucco walls and a faded green tiled roof. Apartments and stables stood in the rear but people hardly ever rented them. Few visitors took rooms this close to the edge of the city unless they were guests of the school itself and then often stayed with the professor that invited them, as proper etiquette demanded.

Over the heavy double doors that during business hours stood open to the night save for during the coldest months of the year hung a hand carved sign sporting the One Eyed name and a stencil of a mangy dog. No one really gave notice to the strange name (though freshmen normally chuckled the first time they heard it); Claire knew it dated back almost two hundred years to the time of kings.

To be called a one eyed dog was a minor curse that equaled being called a simple minded fool that followed blindly. It was basic studies in the school's history program to examine the leftover words and phrases from the time of royals. And every History professor the Company ever produced loved to point out the missed joke of seekers of knowledge flocking to a place bearing the moniker of one who followed without thought.

Hurrying across the street to the tavern, she and Daphne darted between horse drawn cabs and early evening crowds heading toward Green God celebrations. The sun had fully set and twilight was darkening into full night. As they passed streetlamps, Claire could hear the faint hiss of gas that fed the flames.

The city was old, built during the time wizards were helping their kings to power, but sported some of the most advance wonders in the known world. The pipes that ran under cobblestone streets bringing gas and with it light was truly a marvel. Warm golden light that bathed the city at night along with the infusion of youth at the school every year gave the city a feel of never truly being quiet or asleep.

As they drew closer to the double oak doors that stood open, Claire could smell freshly cooked bread and meat along with brewed mead. She could hear dozens of voices talking all at once inside and the occasional song that broke out among happy clientele.

Daphne again threw an arm around Claire's shoulders as they walked into the massive common room. It was bright and festive with green banners on the walls and garland made of holly tied to the bar. At the school it was easy to forget about the Green God Festival (if one didn't listen to excited talk of freshmen) but that was not the case here.

Several of the waiters and waitresses moving between tables wore hats adorned with holly for the occasion. One of the entertainers in the back, a redheaded woman in trousers and tunic, singing atop one of the long tables even wore an elaborate festival mask with tassels and poms that swung and bounced as she danced.

Daphne directed her through the throng of students toward the area they normally held court with their classmates and friends. Claire took in the decorations and felt herself smiling. She had been spending a lot of time studying abilities and buried in books. School hadn't always been so important to her and she knew Daphne probably thought at times that she'd lost all sense.

But she wanted to know about her ability and where it fit into the special community. History and the Company offered her the only way to do that.

There, in the middle of the room, was the round table Daphne was looking for. Around it were several students locked in conversation. May and Jackie, girls the same age as Claire, and three young men: Brody, Alex, and Zach, her oldest friend. Fellow History students and aside from Daphne only Alex as a water breather was known to the group to possess an ability.

"—new pet," May was saying.

"Look who I found!" Daphne gave Claire a shove into a chair beside Zach and rounded the table to claim the last empty space.

Everyone gave Claire a mock toast.

"I hardly recognize her!"

"Hey, stranger, nice to meet you!"

Claire waved away the jeers and helped herself to an empty glass and filled it from the bowl of mead in the center of the table. The alcohol was pleasantly warm and smelled of rich spices and honey. "Hello, all and everyone. Don't get used to me because I'm not staying long—I have a paper to write."

Jackie wiggled free of Brody's arms and leaned forward. "Seriously, Claire, what are you writing? A new translation of the King's Coronation Letters? You don't have to worry about a position in the Company."

The Company only accepted a few students each year; Claire said as much before she could stop herself. It was a thought that ran through her head repeatedly throughout the day. She wasn't sure where she'd turn without access to the Company's libraries of abilities and powers.

"Yes," Brody said, attempting to capture Jackie again, "but how many of those have had dinner with Director Petrelli herself?"

"We've all had dinner with her," Claire pointed out, sipping mead and feeling its warmth fill her chest. "Freshmen Orientation Ball."

Brody shot her a dry grin. "Not what I meant. Even if the old battleaxe doesn't favor you, her council's tame hunter is your father and his former partner is your mentor. You have nothing to worry about."

"She doesn't want it that way," Daphne said. Somehow a plate of finger cakes had appeared before the speedster without Claire seeing. "That's why she's working so hard," she added around bites, feeding her rapidly moving metabolism.

Touched that her friend had stood up for her, Claire smiled her thanks. Deciding the matter settled for now, they moved on to school gossip. She listened half-heartedly while enjoying her drink and contemplating ordering one of the meat pies the waitresses carried past their table.

Zach and Alex were debating the finer points of crowning day activities when she caught May mention her uncle's name. Her full attention turned back to her classmates.

"—no one knows much about this new pet of his," May was saying. "Just brought him back like a new puppy from one of those mercy missions he's always taking his healer students on."

"So?" Daphne put in. "I caught a glimpse of him the other night when a few professors had dinner here. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark cloak. Looked all right to me." She sat back in her chair, food gone and half her second cup of mead finished. A rosy color filled her cheeks and humor filled her eyes.

"Yeah, I saw him too," Jackie said. "But what do we know about him? Is he one of us or one of them?"

"One of them," Zach said, tipping his head toward Alex. "I overheard Professor Petrelli mention something about healing his companion's ability."

Claire was surprised at her friend—Zach rarely joined in when talk turned to gossip.

Brody again turned to her. "What about it, Claire? Have you met Petrelli's new friend?"

She shrugged helplessly. "Sorry. It sounds like you guys know more about the subject than I do." In truth she had heard her father talking about Peter's new companion. It was as May said—Peter brought him back from his last trip out east. At first the man was kept housed at the medical wing with only Peter and a few of his most trusted apprentices allowed in to see him. According to her father, however, he had since left the school and currently lived with Peter.

She got the impression Noah Bennet, Chief Hunter, was not a fan of this stranger that had attached himself to her uncle.

Daphne propped an elbow against the back of her chair and let her head rest against her wrist. "Besides, how do we even know he is Petrelli's new pet? Maybe he's just a new ability case? Or a sick one."

Jackie shook her head. "You guys don't take his class. Petrelli's been in a weird mood lately and seems full of energy."

Alex nodded in agreement. Like Jackie he took classes in medical arts. "I heard he's going to debut him at the Petrelli's festival party."

Daphne ladled more mead into her cup. "Good for him. People in his position should have a lover or two. It is unhealthy not to. He should teach that—I'd attend those classes." She laughed.

It was true, Claire reflected, from an historical perspective. A few hundred years ago her uncle and blood father would have been considered princes at best and wizards to the crown at worst. Though propriety had changed somewhat and not all marriages were simple tools of business things were still basically the same in the area of the bedroom. Society expected important women and men to take several lovers before they reached middle age and had to contend with managing property and households.

The public thought it strange Nathan Petrelli kept most of his lovers hidden away and didn't share public duties and commitments with them. Peter was an all together different case that he seemed to rarely, if ever, take a lover. In some of the lower circles that led to talk and rumors of a different sort, about what his tastes might really be, but Claire knew those were completely untrue.

"It'll certainly do him some good," Daphne continued. "Look at me."

Zach gave her a dry look. "Yes, we all have heard of your conquests. You certainly boast enough."

"Hey, not my fault that cute waiter boy turned you down." Daphne swirled the liquid around in her cup and glanced up mischievously. "I know who could do with a dalliance or two—it would certainly inject some fun back into our dinnertime talks."

Everyone exchanged a glance. Names no doubt sprung to mind for all of them. Well, not quite all. Claire didn't like to involve herself in such talk when it came to professors (some of which were secretly blood relatives).

Daphne leveled a finger in Claire's direction and the younger woman glanced up in surprise. Suddenly withdrawing the silent thanks from before seemed like a good idea.

"Absolutely," Brody put in. "And if you wanted a volunteer…"

"Hush. I've known you since you and Lyle used to make mudcakes out in the garden."

"You have been a little tense lately, Claire," Zach mumbled, giving a quick glance to the same waiter Daphne had mentioned.

"And it's festival season!" the speedster added. "Why, just look at all the boys and girls in their finery. Don't you want to curry the Green God's favor?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "By getting pregnant?"

"Bah, we don't live in the time of royalty any longer. And in the bible that I read the Green God simply asks for pleasure from both parties—not fertilization." Daphne slammed her cup down and waggled a finger in mock admonishment. "Judging from your state he must be mightily upset with you about now."

That drew a laugh from the table and Daphne stood up, raising her glass above her head. "I think we should declare that our mission this end of term."

"Currying favor?" Jackie teased. "You do that every sevenday."

"No! Claire Bennet should be our goal as a group this year. We owe it to her as a friend to get her completely and utterly tossed."

Before the others could raise their glasses to the ridiculous notion and declare it official, Claire leaned across the table and pulled her down. "I have different goals this year. Once I have a post within the Company you guys can line up every two coin whore and slut from York to Newland. Not before—I have to focus right now."

At that the table thankfully admitted defeat. Daphne made a tisk sound; Brody and Jackie decided to start currying the Green God's favor with each other; Alex considered the empty mead bowl then the long line at the bar to get more; May ventured to the dance floor, looking for a partner; and Zach quietly sipped his drink.

Before long another entertainer started up a song, this one about the last king's fall at the hand of his wizard, and most of the One Eye joined in cheerfully. Daphne excused herself to go in search of the entertainer—to either sign up or request a song, one could never really tell with her.

Claire stayed for another half cup of mead and to pick clean what Daphne had abandoned on her plate, and listened as her friends chatted, joked, and sang. As much as she wanted to stay with them and join in until last bell, the thought of the thesis she still had to write on top of the reading Rains had suggested loomed in her thoughts. She dwelled on the waiting work sitting in her bag.

Giving Zach's hand a squeeze underneath the table, Claire stood and started for the door. She'd put in an appearance like she had promised, staying longer than she had originally planned, but if she hurried she could beat the first round of students returning to the dorm and have a few hours of quiet to work.

She made it halfway across the street before a rush of displaced air let her know she failed to sneak away undetected. And that Daphne wasn't as drunk as she had pretended if her ability was still so acute.

"Going somewhere?"

"Actually I think I'm just going home."

"Not because of what I said before? I was just having some fun with you and didn't mean anything by it."

Claire shook her head and adjusted her bag over her shoulder again. "No, not because of your interest in my love life. I'm just feeling a little off lately and need to get a foothold on my thesis."

Daphne bit her bottom lip. "You are going to be fine. The Company is in your blood—just trust your instincts."

Claire gave her a polite smile and nodded.

"I did mean the idea behind the jest, Claire. Have some fun. It is festival season and you should." She dug in a pocket and withdrew a coin. "Here. Buy yourself a mask at least."

Claire opened her mouth to refuse but Daphne's hand blurred and a weight settled itself in Claire's money purse.

"I insist."

She'd been around enhanced humans her entire life; Claire should have known better than to try and argue with a speedster.

"A mask," Daphne repeated. "What trouble could that possibly cause?"

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The coin was enough for a cab home, but against her better judgement Claire turned toward the late evening crowd. Around her people wore brightly colored beads around their necks, masks, and wide hats. Some shops had hung green banners and sprigs of holly from their fronts. Once the festival started in full she knew the number of people filling the streets would triple. Tonight was just for early merrymakers enjoying pre-celebrations.

Most of the music and dancing took place on Freeman Square in the center of the city so the flow of people slowly moved in that direction. Claire fell in step and let the crowd push her along. Occasionally she heard shouts of "_Shol de'frojul_" Blessed festival.

Closer to the action, vendors had set up small portable stands and sold everything from full costumes to jars of alcohol. The civil watch, she suspected, had turned a blind eye to the latter. Musicians danced through the crowd, plucking their strings and singing songs of descending degrees of propriety while noisemakers blew in response.

She heard several songs sung at once and over each other, echoed in some cases by the drunken crowd, but no one seemed to mind. Claire wandered through it all, humming to herself when she caught a familiar tune, but didn't feel much of the shared joy.

Claire came to a stop near one of the vendors and began looking through the masks and head dressings arranged in rows. Her history training helpfully supplied the symbolism and meaning behind wearing red over green. Red indicated commitment to another person while green signaled sexual availability. Not that anyone bothered to learn the hidden meanings now.

In the time of kings, people thought if the monarch conceived an heir during the Green God Festival it brought good luck to the united lands. The joyous occasion and atmosphere inspired many specials and commoners alike to celebrate the same way.

Even with the invention of protection potions and sleeves a good number of people still had birthdays within nine to eight months from the yearly festival.

She let her fingers trail over an elaborate piece. It was a half mask, slanted along the eyes into a wing design that flowed back into a band around the head. Hares graced the front of the dressing, carved in a single file. Leather straps looped around the back and hung for braiding into its wearer's hair. Green pom balls of soft cotton dangled as decoration from the straps.

It was beautiful but not really for her. The color green was not the only festival symbol—hares indicated a willingness to be seduced. Even if history students, those that actually paid attention, were the only ones that knew the old tokens she didn't feel comfortable wearing them.

"You should get it," a voice said behind her. "It'll look nice."

Claire turned and saw a woman, slightly older than herself, approaching the vendor. She wore dark trousers tucked into travel boots, a widely flared tunic, and a simple green mask over her eyes. Around her neck were several strings of festival beads.

"Um, excuse me?"

The other woman stopped beside her and reached for the elaborate mask. "I think this would look nice on you." She held it up.

Claire leaned away, a little unnerved by the invasion of her personal space, but didn't step back. "It's not really me."

She turned the mask over, looking at the front, and quirked an eyebrow behind her own mask. "Don't like to be pursued? Who doesn't like to be chased from time to time?"

Claire was momentarily surprised she wasn't the only one that paid attention to the design and coloration. She didn't recognize the woman from school, even with the age difference she would have seen her in previous terms.

The woman seized on the moment and gently slipped the mask over Claire's head. The band pinched her ears slightly but it wasn't uncomfortable. Fingers slipped along its length and freed hair trapped underneath the band; she let the leather straps hang loose over Claire's shoulders with the poms just brushing her student dress.

"There."

Warmth prickled her skin and traveled up her neck. It had been a while since she felt anything close to that and Claire smiled before she could stop herself.

"_Shol de'frojul_," the woman said and then waved the vendor over. She dropped a coin on the table.

"You didn't have to do that." Claire took a deep breath and tried to regain her footing.

"My treat. Walk with me?"

Claire fell in step next to her and again started out into Freeman Square. Noisemakers sounded behind them. "So do you make it a habit to buy strangers expensive gifts?"

"No, normally I buy myself expensive gifts but you looked like you wanted it."

"I could have gotten it myself."

"Could, but wouldn't."

Behind the mask, Claire's eyes narrowed. "Forgive me but I hadn't realized you were an expert on what I would or wouldn't do."

Surprisingly, the other woman laughed. It was a short mad sounding giggle. "Look around you," she said. "Tell me what you see."

"I don't understand."

"You're a student—your clothes say that at least. Study and report for teacher."

Claire eyed her for a moment and sighed. Around her nothing seemed different than before—people sang and danced and enjoyed the festival. "I see people celebrating," she said.

"How can you tell?"

"They're happy, they're singing, they're wearing traditional beads and masks honoring the Green God."

Instead of a laugh, the woman gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Now add yourself to the equation and lose the mask. What do you see then?"

Claire glanced down and understood. She was the only one on the street not wearing beads. Even the venders and acrobats wore the narrow green or red strings. If she had made it this deep in the city without first stopping at the mask stand she would be the only one not wearing one of those too. "I see your reasoning but not your point," she said. "I was at the vendor and could have bought it."

"You're here but not enjoying yourself. My guess is you were going to walk around for a few more streets and having felt an obligation met retreated to your dorm. But you were admiring that mask so deep down there is a part of you that wants to have fun so I stepped in and gave you the excuse to enjoy yourself a little.

"By the way, most normal people without a stick protruding from their hindquarters would have just said 'thank you'."

Most of Claire's anger cooled as quick as it had come on. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Side by side, they turned from Freeman's Square and joined up with the rear streets that ran its length. Here were several stages for phantom shows during the festival. The wooden platforms stood empty and dark but further down the lanes Claire could hear street performers holding court in smaller productions, satires written for a more common crowd.

"I do compliment your observational skills," Claire said. "My mentor probably wishes his hunter students were as astute."

"Well, a lonely traveler in a foreign city can't be too careful. Your mentor would probably chide you for missing the pickpockets that prowl these streets as well."

Claire realized the strange woman was probably right. Without thinking she clutched her shoulder bag tightly…and knew she'd probably given more away for her companion to spot. She smiled through the heat creeping up her neck. "Another clear reason he shall never convert me to the hunter's lifestyle."

"You'll have to tell me all the others sometime." The woman stopped at a T-junction, seemingly unsure which direction to pick. Claire was familiar with this part of the city. There were several used bookstores students frequented down the left path and it was a shorter loop back to the east side of Freeman. The right would take them to the other side of the city's center and closer to the late night festival shows.

Claire touched her companion's arm and drew her across the junction. "Come." At the peak of the T were several stands sharing one large firepit. There were long sticks of meat and vegetables braced over the glowing coals. Fat dripped down and sizzled in the flames. Another stand offered pies small enough to hold in one hand.

The closer the two women came to the vendors the stronger the smell was of cheaply made but delicious food. Claire's stomach reminded her that all she had eaten at the tavern was remains from Daphne's order. Even here away from Freeman people mingled, mostly around the firepit as they shared impromptu meals. Claire led the other woman past two vendors without slowing and headed straight for a stand selling _su'lapurs_.

"Travelers come here and see beads and masks as signs of the Green God Festival," Claire said. "Residents know to look forward to these sweets as the true way to celebrate." She waved over an older woman sitting with a group of men and held up two fingers. Flour and dried dough caked the woman's apron. Under her fingernails was green colored frosting. Claire withdrew Daphne's money.

The _su'lapurs_ came wrapped in butcher paper and were still warm from the fire. Outside the cakes were dark brown and flaky, topped with frosting, but inside they were soft and airy. Claire handed one to her companion and took another for herself. There were small jars filled with ale cooling in the night air at the end of the table. She handed Daphne's coin to the old woman, told her to keep the difference as a tip, and gathered two jars.

They started walking again with Claire setting pace down the right side of the junction. She bit into the _su'lapur_ and groaned. The cakes were only available during this time of year, much to the annoyance of every local.

From the corner of her eye, Claire watched her new friend take a tentative bite and then draw back to look at the pastry. With her mouth full, she nodded her enjoyment. Flakes of green frosting clung to the corner of her lips.

"Thank you—it's very good." Blue eyes filled with mirth. "See how easy that politeness was?"

Claire handed her one of the jars of ale. "I'm Claire Bennet, by the way. Normally I'm not so rude."

She accepted the ale gratefully and took a draught. "Elle Bishop. And I normally am."

"King Hellar once wrote that bluntness was an unmentioned virtue," Claire replied before she realized how much that made her sound like a bookish first year.

"Written probably because his wizard told the court what they could do with themselves. Though I suppose the court got the last laugh, or so the story goes."

Again, Claire was pleased she wasn't the only one in the entire city that had read a history book. "It isn't often I find someone as knowledgeable in history as you."

"Aren't history students supposed to spend days and nights gathered around dusty books debating grain prices from hundreds of years ago?"

Claire took another bite of _su'lapur_ and nodded at the stereotypical image. It was, she admitted, how most of the outside world viewed history. "There are not many that share my dedication." It was oddly tempting to tell this stranger how she felt comforted studying enhanced humans of old and the world they crafted with their abilities. Hers was so unlike any other ability that learning about the ancient wizards was the closest she could find to feeling normal.

Not only was that borderline heresy but it would further lock Elle's opinion of her as queer so Claire sipped her drink and swallowed the words. The ale was deeply spiced and very strong. The sharp taste washed the sweetness of the _su'lapur_ down well.

"My tutors believed in having knowledge in multiple subjects," Elle said.

"Tutors? You are privately trained, then?"

Elle finished her pastry and nodded in the affirmative. She balled the butcher paper and tossed it into a nearby trash receptacle. "My father favored specialized education over direct Company instruction, for personal reasons."

Claire paused there for a moment, popped the last bite of _su'lapur_ in her mouth, and then sent her paper in after Elle's. "That's very fascinating," she said. "I'd love to know more about your fields of study. And if you had ever thought of pursuing an apprenticeship."

Elle looped an arm around Claire's, linking hands, and again they were walking. It must have been the strength of the ale that made Claire appreciate the invasion of her personal space. There was comforting warmth radiating from the other woman and an underlying sensation Claire couldn't identify. It was a type of power, an ability, that made the fine hairs on the back of her neck tingle.

"I'll tell you about my teachers later," Elle said. "But tonight I want you to show me your city."

They were far from Freeman Square now and the crowd had thinned. Loose beads and poms from masks and decorations littered the street as did a few men and women passed out from too much festival drink. Claire didn't feel intoxicated but seeing them decided to go easy on the strong ale in her hands.

Ahead was a phantom show set to counter the official stage productions put on by the city. A scattering of people gathered in a semicircle around two performers and watched as they danced. She and Elle stopped to watch along with them.

Claire recognized the story immediately. It was the first king's coronation during the season of the Green God's death. Both actors wore form fitted body stockings covered in long colored ribbons that spun and twisted as they moved. One wore a pale mask with green hares painted on the cheeks. This was Niccerson, the boy king. The other wore a silver half mask that glittered and caught the flickering lamplight. This was Wizard Samet who it was said could make rivers bend to his command and even rise and take the form of men.

As the crowd watched, Niccerson bowed to Samet but tried to escape the wizard. He spun and danced away, his ribbons flashing red and green, as he rejected Samet's offer to unite the lands under one rule. Bells sounded from Samet's fingers and he gave chase over the small stage. Blue ribbons trailed after.

They circled again and again, drawing closer only to part. Claire remembered the legends said Samet had dragged Niccerson all the way to the eastern lands and placed him in a series of trials to convince the boy king he was destined to rule. Modern teachings said Samet was a ruthless manipulator as well as a powerful enhanced human that tricked Niccerson into doing his bidding.

This telling didn't follow that idea, Claire quickly saw. Not uncommon for street plays that aimed for melodrama and scandal over fact. Here both Niccerson and Samet were equal parts innocent and manipulative. One pulled while the other followed only to change station during another set of trials. Each man gaining something from the other in partnership.

The actors moved in step now, drawing closer and letting their hands touch with each pass. Lower class plays also liked to showcase a romantic relationship between king and wizard, she knew. Some journals said Niccerson and Samet were lovers while others said they were merely enemies working toward a common goal.

The man playing Samet let free some of his blue ribbons and dropped to his knees. Niccerson took them up and considered for a moment before wrapping them around his arms. Facing his wizard, the boy king tied the ends together and slipped the loop over Samet's head. With one final flourish, Samet grabbed Niccerson's arms and pulled him down to the stage. In doing so the ribbon's knot tightened around them both, locking them in an intimate embrace.

The crowd applauded and tossed coins in an upturned hat sitting on the edge of the stage. Elle joined the cheers and added a coin of her own before taking Claire's hand again. Together they milled with the crowd for a few minutes before slipping down an alley and away from the throng of people.

"Did you enjoy that?" Claire asked.

"I did. Though I must confess I had hoped it would be one of those shows I heard about that uses…less artistic methods of showcasing the consummation of the king and wizard pact."

Claire's face warmed. She had heard all about such performances from Daphne—how actors stripped down and did more than just playacted the parts. "In another few days, closer to crowning night, you shouldn't have much trouble finding those," she said.

"Perhaps I could trick you into being my guide that night as well?" Elle said. "I would like to see the consummation of Queen Barone and her wizard Hinmaster—if only to see how an actress would manage that."

Again Claire had Daphne's instructions and she spoke before thinking. "She wears a leather harness with a phallic—" Claire stumbled over the words when she realized Elle had baited her. She flushed again.

Elle laughed and pulled her to a stop. "A better story than the Queen Barone might be how you know such details, Pom Pom." She touched the decorations hanging from Claire's mask.

Claire glanced down before returning her gaze to Elle. "I'm an apprentice of many things," she said boldly. She caught herself staring at Elle's mouth, at the way her lips parted ever so slightly. "You would do well to remember that."

Elle was suddenly very close, squeezing the hand she held and slipping her other arm around Claire's waist. "Oh, I certainly will."

It was there, in the dark surrounding the festival grounds with revelers and noisemakers a distant clamor, that Elle Bishop kissed her for the first time.

…

…

It was nearly dawn by the time Elle arrived alone at the hotel. She yanked the tails of her tunic free on her way to the bed. Her ability buzzed underneath her skin and she felt intoxicated, powerful.

"Elle."

She stopped cold at her name and glanced back. Sitting in the shadows of the room was her partner for this assignment. Unlit candle and hunter's journal on the end table beside him.

"You are slipping, Elle," he said, more than a little admonishment in his tone. "Your father and I trained you better than that."

"Sorry." She tightened her hands into fists and calmed the lightning threatening to jump free.

"How did it go?"

"Mission accomplished. I found Claire Bennet without problem."

He nodded and reached for the journal. "Does she trust you?"

Elle paused again, choosing her next words carefully. "She will."

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The Hunger did not die away until the sun was almost up.

Climbing to his feet in the alleyway, he adjusted his robes and took stock of the scene. Blood had splattered against the cobblestones underneath the area where he'd held his victim aloft. It was hours old but still glistened moist with a topcoat of early morning dew.

The girl on the ground, a young first year, would not be missed from the school until after the festival. There was no shortage of activities during the Green God that spirited away new students in the city for days at a time. It was common and very nearly a rite of passage for those brought in by the Company for training.

A new power crackled underneath his skin as he walked unsteadily to street. She was a crumplier, not a particularly skilled one, and that ability now belonged to him. This kill had satisfied the Hunger for a time, but he knew it wouldn't last. It never did.

Out of habit, he glanced around and looked for the person that was never far away after he lost control. The same person that was responsible for bringing the Hunger into the city. He was alone, however, as he joined early morning foot traffic.

There was a cure, not just a way to control the Hunger, he knew. And he was close to finding it. Deep inside the Hunger jumped with the knowledge it would gain yet another power as he continued his search for the answer.

Soon he would have Claire's help to complete the formula.

…

…

Claire listened to the rhythmic clacking of eastern fighting sticks coming from the training area of the hunter's enclave and was thankful she didn't have to participate with the class today. Claude Rains believed in teaching his students with thorough and intense lessons. First and second year hunters often sported bruises and ugly marks from where the safety mats failed to protect them.

When Claude took over as her mentor from Peter, he insisted she learn the proper eastern style of combat. While she never bore any marks from the training (something Claude surely took notice of but never mentioned) it had not been a pleasant experience.

Her father had taught her self-protection but her skill never managed to rise above basic stances. Claude's lessons and the blunt end of a fighting stick hadn't done much to advance her combat education either.

Turning her back on the first year about to meet the mat hard, she busied herself hanging unused sticks on the wall brackets. This had been her first chore with the class—keeping the training room in order—and there was still something calming about the action of hanging the weapons in their proper places.

She'd leave hunting for specials to her adopted family.

Claire felt a brush of displaced air next to her a moment before hearing: "_Shol de'frojul_, Miss Bennet."

"Hello, Daphne."

"I don't see a mask on your face."

Claire shot her a look. "I'm not going to wear it to class."

"You did buy one." The speedster looked pleased with herself and the child level ploy she'd used to find out.

Claire straightened the rack and turned to her friend. "Not exactly, but I do owe you a thanks for pushing me to go last night."

Daphne's grin turned wicked. "So you did get yourself tossed!"

Fortunately the students were too busy with their lesson to overhear. Still though, Claire shushed her. "Inside tone. And there was no tossing."

"Who is he? Her? Hir? Who?"

"Your interest is much too great."

Daphne's fingers pulled at the air as though she was playing a musical instrument. "I'm starved for gossip and you have some—give."

"I met a traveler, in for the festival season. She's rather mysterious and not at all your type."

"I don't know, that sounds exactly like my type. Bring this traveler by One Eye tonight and let your friends be the judge."

Claire shook her head at the idea. "I doubt Elle would wish to be subjected to the scrutiny of the gang. And I might not see her again—I have work to do in the library tonight."

If not for Claude standing a few yards away, Daphne no doubt would have cried out. Instead she settled for giving Claire a sharp shove. "Ugh, I thought I had cured you of this! What happened to the old Claire that used to cheer all of us on during new adventures?"

"She's still here…just busy."

"I'm not waiting for you to get tenure, Claire. I'm not. Bring your new find out tonight or I'm going track her down myself."

At the other end of the training room the class was beginning to break up. Soon she would be able to go over her notes with Claude. There was a piece during King Hellar's reign she wanted his opinion on. Given how overly romanticized Hellar normally was, she didn't want Daphne jumping in with her own notions.

"If I see Elle again—and I don't know that I will—I'll ask her to One Eye for a drink. I'm not staying out all night with you. Term is almost up and I'm not going to sleep through final classes."

"You did last year and it was fine." Daphne waved away the reproachful look. "But I will take what I can get."

Claire gave a put upon sigh but didn't really feel the emotion behind it. Seeing Elle again and introducing her to the group did sound like fun.

Daphne must have seen something in her eyes because she smiled and said, "Admit it, there was tossing last night."

"No."

"Little bit?"

"No."

…

…

Noah Bennet's loyal hunters knew where to find the body. Of course they did. Elle spared a glance at the woman walking beside her. Clad in festival greens and red with flashes of bare skin visible between strings of beads, Candice looked nothing like the model of a Company Hunter.

Elle reflected that in dark trousers and cloak she fit the description more classically. Irony there.

Candice walked confidently and around her was the unmistakable air of an ability in use. None of the city traffic gave them or the hunters surrounding the mouth of the alley a glance as they walked by—the civil watch was even absent from the scene—and Elle guessed her new friend had something to do with that. Not a telepath, there were too many minds around to bend at once, so an illusion ability of some sort.

Useful, she thought.

One hunter stood guard in the alley while two others worked to clean up the mess. She turned to the guard and said, "The top of the head was taken clean off?"

He nodded and glance toward the body crumpled among festival trash. "Yes, Agent Bishop. The brain was completely removed."

Elle stepped into the alley and stared for a long moment at the carnage. She didn't feel the need to get any closer.

"Well?" Candice asked. Her tone not doing much to improve Elle's mood.

"It's the same as back east," Elle said. "He's definitely preying on abilities." She turned and met the hunter's impatient gaze. "Tell Noah we need to end this now while we still can."

"We're keeping a cap on this," Candice said. "It won't get out of hand."

"That's not what I meant. No one is safe while he's free…least of all people with abilities."

"There are considerations that must be made."

Elle swore under her breath. "That afraid of your bosses, are you?"

"Bennet is mindful of the political consequences—that is something your family should be well aware of."

The two cleaning the alley glanced up at them.

"Excuse me?"

Candice leveled her gaze. "The Company isn't at war yet and that is thanks to our 'bosses' and stopping this killer could provoke an open declaration. Hunters have been buying you people out in the wilds time since before I was even born and it seems all you've succeeded in doing is creating a major threat we now have to clean up after."

Power crackled between Elle's fingers. She debated whether she'd be able to blast Candice before the illusion ability or the three hunters could stop her. She was well trained and good at her job; Elle would put good coin over bad that she could take them all.

Her father's admonishing voice ringing through her head stopped her though. After her last asset and Peter Petrelli crossed paths on her previous assignment, Elle had begged to come to the city. She promised tact and restraint.

"Fine." The word tasted bitter in her mouth. "But you tell Noah that leaving a killer roaming the streets while he gets his political ducks in a row isn't exactly a great idea. War is coming between the Company and Pinehearst regardless and I can't think of a better first casualty than the man that did that." She pointed to the mutilated body.

"You wanted my opinion on the scene—there it is. Until you decide to do something, stay out of my way. I'll return the favor."

Elle sidestepped Candice and walked away from the alley. At ten paces all traces of the murder and hunters faded from view leaving nothing but an empty path littered with festival garbage.

Just as well. She could manage her assignment without Company assistance.

…

…

It was late when Peter finally woke. The echo of a bad dream reverberated just beyond his gasp. He couldn't focus on any details, but could remember flying and darkness creeping over everything while he tried to find a light. The light was very important but it kept slipping away from him.

Rolling to his side he stretched and reached for his companion. He opened his eyes when his hand found only sheets.

When had Gabriel left?

Shaking off the final moments of the troubling dream, Peter sat up. Shadows hung strangely in his bedchamber and it took him a moment to figure out it was because of the time of day. The sun was almost down.

"Good morning," a voice said across the room.

Peter turned and saw his mother sitting next to the cold hearth.

"Morning being a relative term, of course." Angela's mouth quirked into a thin smile. "I suppose a lost day can be forgiven from time to time—you've been very busy lately after all. And it is festival time."

Peter rubbed his eyes. Why was it so hard to focus?

"Your new protégé joined me for breakfast…and supper," Angela added. "Quite the charming young man this Gabriel Gray—he does seem to love his mother."

"I'm sorry, did I miss something?"

"No, not at all. Just a messenger from the Office of the Chancellor." All traces of her smile were gone now. "It seems he will be paying us a visit by crowning day."

"Coming here?"

"Yes. Apparently he is under the impression an invitation to our festival activities has been issued."

Peter gathered blankets around him and sat on the edge of his bed. "Well, Nathan is his heir."

"Yes he is." Angela admitted before standing. "Get dressed, Peter. We have much to do before your father arrives."

…

…

"Clear out! Make way for a paying customer!" Brody pushed his way through the early evening crowd at One Eye.

Claire followed in his wake, hurrying to avoid the press of people when they closed back up behind him. It seemed every person at the school turned out today plus a couple hundred townies. Everywhere she looked she saw holly, beads, and masks. Noisemakers and songs filled the bar—she gave up trying to make out exact lyrics.

The sea of bodies suddenly gave way and she found herself at a table. Her early arrival friends already seated.

"It's sad," Daphne said, her voice carrying over the clamor. "We now have to run a pool to see who goes and collects Claire at the start of the night."

"I didn't collect her," Brody said. He started helping himself to the bowl of mead on the center of the table. "She was already here."

"Really?" Daphne smiled and leaned back in her seat, feet against a table leg. She turned to Jackie but didn't lower her voice. "She has a date."

"I do not!" Claire sat but kept her gaze on the crowd. "I simply left word at her hotel to drop by if she wanted more of the festival experience."

Jackie thought for a moment. "How did you know which hotel?"

"She mentioned it." Claire grabbed a free cup. "Offhandedly"

Daphne mock toasted. "There was a lot of 'off handedness' last night," she informed those at the table. "She gave me all the details; I'll share later."

"I gave you none."

Zach smiled. "''Festival experience?''"

Claire could not spoon the mead into her cup fast enough. "Quite the crowd tonight."

"I had to fight a guy for our table," Daphne said. "Didn't I? Big guy."

"It was an impressive display," May said dryly.

Brody settled in, one arm around the back of Jackie's chair. "Daphne made a scene? Here? First time for everything."

Claire hid a smile behind the lip of her cup.

"Why are you attacking me? Especially after I provided this lovely table for the group to gather. We should all be focused on Claire and this torrid affair she's been conducting right under our noses."

"Scandalous."

Claire set her cup down and held out both hands in surrender. "Playing aside, can we all please not overwhelm Elle if she shows?"

"We'll be good," Jackie promised.

"Completely underwhelming," Zach said.

Figuring that was the best she could hope for, Claire tried to relax and enjoy herself. She had left her satchel with her research notes at the dorm and felt strange without their presence. Another night out was probably a mistake, but she intended to spend hours in the library tomorrow working and making up time. Claude had given her several suggestions on hunter's journals from King Hellar's time.

She finished the cup of mead and helped herself to another. While getting drunk would indubitably harm her plans for tomorrow, a little buzz to take the edge off would help tonight. Her body did not seem to want to cooperate however and she remained sober despite the heady brew.

Zach caught her contemplating a third serving and leaned in close. "It'll be fine," he said. "No need to be nervous."

"I'm not nervous." She smiled at the way her tone rose of its own accord. "Maybe a little."

He reached over and squeezed her hand. That somehow eased her more than the entire bowl of mead could have. She could forget about the cares of the end of term for a few hours because she was with her oldest friends. It was a safe feeling, like nothing in the world could ever draw her away again.

Claire squeezed back and caught sight of familiar person standing near the bar. Elle Bishop had arrived.

"She's here!"

Daphne slapped the tabletop. "Let's go."

Zach shot her a glance. "Together?"

"Sur—no, you had better stay and save the table for us."

"Why do I have to stay behind?"

"Because I fought a guy for it and I'm the group's leader and I say so."

"You're not our leader."

Daphne laughed. "Of course I am."

Brody looked between them. "I always figured I was the leader."

"You keep thinking that." Zach stood. "While you're saving the table."

Claire pushed ahead of them and hurried across the crowded room before she lost sight of her companion in the rabble. In the front of the bar one of the entertainers had just started an upbeat festival song and couples were grabbing precious free space for an impromptu dance floor.

Elle had left her mask in the hotel, but she was still dressed for the festival. Over a black tunic and matching trousers she wore a blue and red vest that shimmered and caught the lamplight. Several strands of beads hung around her neck and disappeared into the v formed by her tunic's untied laces.

Claire licked her lips and smoothed out her dress. She should have at least worn beads, she realized too late. Compared to Elle's festive garments her student clothes seemed plain.

Elle sipped from a jigger of firewater while she scanned the crowd. As Claire stepped into sight, she smiled full and wide.

"You made it."

Elle took Claire's hand in hers. "Of course."

Claire kissed her, feeling bold. "I'm sorry for what's about to happen to you."

Elle's face lost color and she snapped her gaze over Claire's shoulder.

"I know what you're up to," Daphne said. "People tend to forget I'm a hunter too."

The air around them suddenly felt like the charge before a summer thunderstorm broke and Elle slowly set her drink down on the bartop.

Claire sighed and fought the urge to roll her eyes. When Daphne wanted to appear tougher than she really was, she would start with the fact she was a schooled hunter. She left out the fact she was just a teaching assistant.

"Tricking our innocent Claire into thinking you have no hidden motives." Daphne leaned in close. "But I think you desire a little more than just a tour guide from her. And I thoroughly approve."

Elle looked confused as she worked her jaw trying to articulate a response.

Zach provided the rescue. He stepped forward and dipped his head in greeting. "You can ignore Daphne—we all pretty much do as a matter of course. I'm Zach, it's nice to meet you, have fun, and we'll be right over there staying out of your way tonight."

He took Daphne's arms and began leading her back to the others. Over his shoulder he mouthed 'you're welcome' to Claire.

"I don't understand what just happened," Elle said, looking split between being on guard and amused.

"My friends like to tease and they have an odd sense of humor," Claire said. "I have seen them do worse sadly."

"Then I'll count myself as lucky twice over." Elle signaled for a bartender and gestured for a second drink.

Claire stole a glance at her friends watching and no doubt gossiping. "I'm not sure, but I think they also have a running bet on what sort of activities I'll get up to this festival season."

Elle handed her a shot glass. "Perhaps you should secretly bet on yourself? You might just win."

They touched glasses and drank. Warmth spread through Claire.

"Thank you again for coming," she said. "I had hoped to see you again."

"It was a hard invitation to resist."

She set the glass aside. "So have you been enjoying the festival today?"

"Sadly not as much as I would have liked," Elle said. "I was called to a…meeting that soured my day."

"Oh, so not just in for fun then? What do you do?"

Elle opened her mouth, frowned slightly, and said, "I'll tell you, but not tonight. I've had my fill of real life and want a little fantasy right now."

"I'm the same," Claire admitted. "My mind kept straying during school today."

Elle's gaze flicked over Claire's shoulder, toward the table filled with gossiping students. "So eager to join your friends?"

"Not exactly." Claire thought for a second. "Dance with me?"

"Do scholars dance?"

"This one does. I've had ten years of classical and toe step training."

Elle moved in close. "An apprentice of many things indeed."

The entertainer's song was still upbeat but slower than the previous jig. Claire led Elle into the nearest pack of dancers and extended her right hand in formal gesture. Elle smiled and responded by raising her hand until their fingertips were almost touching. They both half bowed with a short step in one direction and then again in the opposite direction.

Not breaking eye contact, Claire let their fingers intertwine and stepped into the flow of the dance. The words of the song were lost to her as the melody grew louder and muscles fell into familiar patterns. She and Elle were among a dozen or so couples moving in a closed pair in a wheel formation. Several other open pairs and single dancers moved around them as well, trading partners and propelling each other along with just the barest brush of fingers.

From the outside it doubtlessly looked a jumble, but Claire slipped between the floaters, following her group, with an easy and well practiced grace. Elle kept pace; her step and style not as tight as Claire's but fearless.

Giving into the urge to test that recklessness, Claire added small variations to the dance's simple three step and encouraged her to follow. Lost in the momentum of it, she twirled her partner around until they were both breathless.

Later, when the music slowed and several of the dancers went back to their tables, Claire wasn't ready to let her go yet so she kept hold of Elle's hand and slipped her free arm around the other woman's waist.

Unlike the three step, this dance didn't have any historical or cultural significance; Claire decided she liked it better regardless.

"You're very good," she said. "Private tutors again?"

Elle shook her head. "Just basic preparation for blending into your 'civilized' world."

"I never once thought those raised out east were uncivilized." Claire smiled.

"It is a notion held by some."

Elle felt warm and comfortable against her. "Again playing mysterious. Sooner or later I'll work out all your secrets—I'm a scholar and it is what we do."

Elle opened her mouth and seemed to want to say something but instead leaned forward and kissed her. This time Claire let her lead and barely noticed the current of power that crackled up her spine from Elle's fingers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_In analyzing the period we must be careful not to over romanticize. The tale of King Hellar and his chief adviser, the Wizard Archabold, is often portrayed as a star-crossed love story. Letters written between the two during Hellar's rise to power are often pointed to as declarations of true love despite their terms of endearment being relatively tame for the day._

_It should be noted that during the period those in power often carefully chose their lovers to better guard their standing. One only has to study the teachings of Exlar, Archabold's mentor, to see the use of such a relationship to secure the wizard's position in the court._

Claire tapped the end of her pen against her lips as she considered the wording. Factual, yes, but it sounded flat and cynical.

She grinned. Perhaps Daphne had been right about a night out being good for her. Or a few of them.

"'Lords above save us from poets and people in—'" Claire stopped herself from finishing the old saying and shook her head at the lunacy of it. Festival time was for carefree fun and nothing more. Trinkets and a few kisses in the dark, and there was nothing more to it.

She doubted Elle was sitting alone in a room somewhere spinning sugary webs with her thoughts. Daphne may have been right about having a little fun but it was time to get back to work.

Claire set her pen aside and turned to the large book sitting open on the desk in front of her. The book, its leather cover and binding worn and frayed around the edges, was the only in the hunter's library chronicling Wizard Archabold's final days.

In addition to being the wizard most pointed to by those that romanticized the period, Archabold also had the distinction of being one of the few enhanced humans assassinated during his king's reign. Claire was sure she had all the information needed for her notation, but kept reading anyway. She skipped over the drought years and focused instead on Archabold's death.

The histories were unsure of his exact ability but many considered it a form of mind reading or manipulation. Much of Archabold was lost to time; scholars had the published papers and journals from other wizards but because Archabold's time was the beginning of the fall of the kings little had been saved. Occasionally papers from his time were found and published but rarely anything written by his hand.

In the aged pages of the book, Claire read carefully pressed reports from the inquest launched at the king's orders after the death. The hunters directly assigned by the king wrote some of the reports. The Company blamed the assassination on the Council of United Lands but in the reports Claire read Hellar sent hunters to the far east in response to the killing.

A lot of them, Claire saw. Over a dozen ventured out but she didn't see anything indicating if they accomplished their strange mission. She frowned at that. Hunters within the Company kept their own journals so that explained why these reports were not included in the history books she'd read before, but that didn't explain why the reports abruptly ended without notice. Had the king or Company called the hunters home? Had they completed whatever mission Hellar sent them on?

Hellar was hardly an example of sanity after Archabold's death—in fact when the kings later turned on their wizards they used Hellar as an example of how their minds were being twisted by enhanced humans—so Claire guessed it was possible the Company recalled them without official word. Though if a major body had gone against the king's wishes Claire wanted to know.

She closed the leather bound book and turned back to her notes. The thought nagged at her. With a sigh, Claire slid her chair back and started across the library.

Save for the custodian, she had the library to herself. The lamps flooded the room with warm light and a faint scent of burning oil. Claire gave the librarian a friendly nod and disappeared into the rows of books.

She walked past the required reading of students from this enclave, past tomes belonging to the founders, and into the area of kept hunter journals. Here the mustiness of the books was stronger and not even the custodian could keep up with the dust gathering on bindings rarely touched.

Claire moved by centuries of letters and papers written by those that led hunters for king and Company. She slowed when the dates written on the journals reached the reign of Hellar. An attitude for history provided Claire with the exact time of Archabold's assassination and she pulled the journal free from that year.

The light was dim this deep in the rows but Claire didn't bother taking the book back to her desk. She paused and gently turned weathered pages. The ink was sloppy and barely intelligible in places. Reports and orders sent between king and Company saved for the official record.

Claire found a copy of one of the reports she saw in Archabold's history and reread it. Written at the bottom of the page, copied exact by an unknown historian hundreds of years past, was a notation written by Hellar to his Chief of Hunters.

"_They have broken the pact_," Claire read. "_The Kenseian Knights have betrayed us_"—She couldn't make out the next two lines—"_Go east and kill them all. Pay blood with blood and bring the catalyst back to where it belongs_."

The official record didn't mention the hunters again.

Uneasy and not quite sure why, Claire carefully placed the journal back on the shelf. "What's the catalyst?" she asked aloud.

Later, much later, Claire waved farewell to the custodian and left the library. In her bag was a stack of notes, ink still fresh. Her boots clicked down familiar corridors as she worked her way back to the entrance of the enclave, like a miner climbing back to the surface.

Outside there was a chill in the air, a reminder if she needed another that it was festival time, and late afternoon shadows stretched across the grounds. A small scattering of first year students milled around without a second glance at her.

Claire hefted her bag and aimed in the direction of the mess hall. She'd missed lunch but if she rushed she'd still make the bell for dinner. A quick meal before diving back into long gone royalties.

She only made it a few paces from the building when a figure came running up, waving his arms. He was a small boy, seven maybe eight years old, with the hurried look of carrying an important mission.

"Claire Bennet?" he asked, out of breath from the run across campus.

"Yes."

He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a sealed letter. "A lady told me to find you here and give this to you."

Clare accepted it and then felt helplessly at her coin purse. "I'm sorry but I don't have—"

He flashed a toothy grin before running off. "She already paid!"

Once he was out of sight, Claire opened the letter with a flick of her thumb under the wax seal. Inside was messy scrawl worthy of the journals she'd spent the afternoon reading. The address was plain enough though as was the signature at the bottom of the paper.

_E. Bishop_.

…

…

Claire ran her fingers along the folded paper in her pocket as the host led her through the restaurant. It was two stories but narrow and converted from one of the townhomes along the river. Despite not being in a wealthy part of the city, smooth stone and wood paneling accented the restaurant and created a dark and cozy feel. Candles on individual tables, not wall lamps, provided light.

Following the host, she climbed a wooden staircase that opened to another dining area, the seating here was further apart giving greater privacy and a sense of intimacy. Several glass doors stood open to the night and tables on the balconies. The host led Claire to the one farthest from the stairs.

"Here you are, miss. If you require anything, simply ring." The host bowed and Claire thanked him.

Sitting at the only occupied table was Elle Bishop, waiting for her.

The older woman stood. "I was beginning to think you were going to force me to eat alone."

Claire let out a long breath and held up the note. "A child, really? You could have come to the school, you know. I would have liked that."

"Where is the fun in that? The kid did the job well enough apparently."

Claire smiled and walked toward the table. "Are you attempting to court me?"

"I'm trying to get you to eat with me." Elle pulled a chair out and gestured to it.

"It won't work." Claire sat and was slid close to the table.

Elle sat, moving her chair so they were side by side rather than across from each other. "The courting or the dinner?"

"The former."

There was a bottle of wine already open on the table and Elle poured them each a glass. "And why is that? Don't think I have enough coin to offer a bride's price to your family?"

"I'm wrapped up in my studies," Claire said. "I should be in the library right now."

"But you are a dancing scholar." Elle waggled her eyebrows before taking a sip of wine. "You should be able to have fun."

"I'm...focused. I may not get the position I applied for."

Elle shrugged and signaled for a server. "You still accepted my offer – that is something."

They each ordered a light meal. Once the server was out of earshot Claire turned back to the conversation.

"What about you? Do I finally get to know more about you? You say you are in town for more than just the festival. An easterner, not by birth, able to read historical symbols that most commoners overlook and yet I haven't seen you on the school grounds for business."

Elle smiled slow and didn't answer.

"Am I wrong?"

"No, I'd give you passing marks on that exam." Elle set her glass aside and leaned in close, her arm over the back of Claire's chair. "Maybe I'm in town to meet you."

Claire blushed. "I find it hard to believe that is the only reason."

When their food arrived Elle scooted back to eat and Claire felt the absence of her closeness acutely. She helped herself to more wine.

"So what is your business? Really."

Elle cut a piece of fish with the edge of her fork and stabbed it. "You can call me a freelance information agent. I travel the world for those that need my services and observe and report. Along the way I occasionally have affairs with beautiful men and women."

"That _certainly_sounds like an interesting job."

"It does have its moments." Elle mock saluted with her fork.

"So I'm just another conquest then? I should have known." Claire sighed dramatically, playing along.

"Hardly that."

The words festival fling kept Claire from reading too much into that comment. This is what people do during the Green God, she told herself. They play and have fun.

"So are you going back out tonight? To observe and report on the festival?"

Elle smiled. "Not tonight, no. Another evening though, if you'd be willing to act as my guide again. I still would like to see a playact of Queen Barone's consummation."

Daphne's teasing voice rang through Claire's head. "You certainly do have a fixation with that. Is your interest in the monarchy that strong? Or do you have an agenda?"

"Who says I can't have both." Elle leaned in conspiratorially. "Perhaps I have a royal agenda?"

"I think you might just want to see the buxom Barone peg her wizard."

Elle's laughter carried over the patio of the restaurant. She topped off Claire's wine and then her own glass. "Maybe a little of that too."

Claire smiled at a private joke. "My interest in history is for different reasons than your interest in Barone."

"I'm surprised you weren't enjoying yourself more the night we met—I would think the Green God Festival with its link to the royals would be a dream for you."

"In the past it was. And if this year goes well next year will. You aren't exactly catching me at my best right now."

Elle shot her a look. "Well, if this is you at your worst I would certainly like to see your best."

Claire flushed. "You are just trying to flatter me."

"I am." Elle pushed her plate away and placed her arms on the table, her fingers interlaced. "But we can stay on track if that is what makes you comfortable.

"Do you have a specialty you are studying?"

"Enhanced humans," Claire answered immediately, scooting forward on her chair.

"You play favorites."

Claire gave a small shrug. "I'm fascinated by the civilization they helped build and how they came together once abilities started to manifest. Without their early work forming the government the world would be a completely different place for enhanced humans like you and I."

Something flickered in Elle's eyes but she didn't correct her so Claire felt sure her guess was accurate. She'd also just come out as a special herself and felt a little thrill at that.

"And by uniting the lands under one central rule, they formed a system that fostered organizations like the Company to grow and increase its knowledge of abilities, language, arts, and history. Without them not only would we likely still be burned as spellcasters but wars over boundary lines would likely still exist today."

Elle took in all she said for a long moment and finally spoke around the lip of her wineglass, "Sadly the royalty ended so badly. Just think how wonderful the world would be if we had a monarch instead of a decentralized council."

Claire felt a twinge deep in her chest. "You're making fun of me."

Elle set her glass down and looked confused. "No, I'm not. As a student of history isn't there a part of you that idolizes those days? You just said how much good they brought to the world—wouldn't it stand to reason an additional two hundred years of rule would have only added to it?"

"I don't idolize, no. It would be blasphemous to our kind." Claire thought about the hours she spent reading and writing about King Hellar. "There are those that spin lust tales about the wizards and monarchy and believe them wholly but I'm not one of them. The kings hoarded power until they rebelled against the wizards and tried to wipe enhanced humans out."

"So you don't believe it was an equal partnership?"

Claire hadn't heard anyone save for first years suggest such a thing—it flew in the face of Company teachings—and was momentarily surprised at the sincerity in Elle's question.

"I'll allow that in some of the early years the balance in writing law was probably equal," Claire said, "but they became afraid of enhanced humans as our numbers grew. After the monarchy was removed it was clear the council could run things without a figurehead, as they still do today."

"But the council itself is ruled by a single figurehead," Elle said. "Maybe we are simply waiting for the right person to come along and retake the throne?"

Claire smiled. "I don't think that is likely to happen soon. The wizards were quite thorough in putting down the uprising and no royal blood remains. Besides, how could the world ever trust another king again?"

Elle's eyes sparkled. "Maybe the right special just needs to come along and offer the right champion to the council?"

Claire tipped her head and her smile grew unsure.

"It wasn't always blood, Pom Pom," Elle explained. "There were several royals—Queen Altus being one—that never had formally known heirs and the council tried to replace her ahead of the court at the end of her rule."

"Ah, the laws of non-relation succession." As part of her first year studies Claire memorized the bylaws of that rite. It was a formal trial held in front of the council. "I'm familiar with that."

A look passed over Elle's face that said she was simply humoring Claire about what the student thought she knew. "Then you know how the wizards in their enclaves here in the city used to fight amongst themselves for the right to champion a replacement in front of court and council. Sometimes battles were fought to the death, assassination was employed to gain the high position, and wizards risked being disgraced if the person they championed was not picked to ascend to the throne."

Claire stared at Elle. The school did not teach that. She simply knew the trial as a legal matter handled by the government. Yes, wizards had stood up for candidates but the way she understood it they simply acted as modern day solicitors. "Where did you learn that?" she asked. "Your tutors couldn't have been trained here or they severely misguided you."

"There are other places besides the Company," Elle said.

But none as accurate or comprehensive Claire started to say and then stopped herself. She didn't want to insult Elle. "My mentor has been trying to get me to think about the royalty from a different perspective," she said instead. "He thinks my thesis will stand out from the others submitted if I write it from a point of view not often thought about."

"The kings?"

Claire nodded. "He keeps giving me these books to read that focus on them instead of the actions of their wizard within the court. My writing isn't going well."

"Why?"

She thought for a moment before answering. "I don't really understand their point of view," she admitted. "The actions of the kings were horrible – they attempted to commit genocide against specials."

Elle sipped her wine. "There are alternate interpretations."

Claire figured she meant some of the playacts in the festival. "Those are not true. I have to deal in facts."

"After so much time has passed is it that outlandish to say the histories are less than complete?"

"Much has been lost but I can't spin conjecture."

Elle bit her bottom lip as she thought. "Then use the history books you have, as they are written, but tell me why you think the kings rose against their wizards."

"You sound like Professor Rains."

Elle didn't answer, waiting for a response

Claire sighed. "The kings wanted power and complete rule over the united lands."

"They had power." Elle sounded like she was enjoying this. "The end of the 'official' playact between Niccerson and Samet is clear on that."

"Greed cannot be rationalized."

"Yes it can."

"Okay." Claire felt a flash of irritation. "The kings wanted more than they possessed and eliminating their wizards also quieted the worries of their alliance within the court and council. How is that for rationalization?"

Elle shook her head. "This is why you are struggling. That reason is too easy to pull apart. The court possessed no real authority once a king or queen was in place and the worry of the relationship—lust tales aside—between the nobility and enhanced humans kept the council from ever moving against the monarchy."

Claire thought about Hellar and silently conceded that Elle had a point about the council. It was widely believed they had a hand in Archabold's death, but in his writings Hellar largely dismissed the council as impotent. "Then what is your theory?"

Elle caught her tone. "Your history books, Pom Pom, not mine. My education was obviously lacking compared to the Company."

"I can't complete this." Claire threw her hands in the air. "It's impossible without falling into a trap of conjecture and guesswork."

"It isn't impossible. All the information you need is already available—you just have to be open to alternate interpretations."

"Lust tales."

Elle glanced over the balcony at the riverfront and frowned in thought. "You need to be open to the idea that there is more to the events in your books than just names and dates. Niccerson and Hellar were real people with complex motivations. If things were as simple as your classes painted them than your paper would be easy to write."

Later, after Elle paid for their meal, they stepped outside the townhouse and watched as the evening traffic passed by. They were several streets away from the festival but decorations of red and green still covered doorways and buildings. Couples walked along the boardwalk in bright clothes and masks.

Claire slipped her hand around Elle's.

"I like this city," Elle said. "I like the life and feel of it here." She paused as though picking words carefully. "I almost grew up here—my father was with the Company for a short time. But once my assignment is done I am not staying."

Claire felt her stomach dip at that and mentally chided herself for such foolishness.

"The world is a very big place with many important things in play right now." She chewed her lip again. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why study history?"

They walked in silence for a moment. "My passion is with the wizards," Claire admitted. "I've felt a connection to them ever since my ability manifested." It was the first time she'd said such out loud and almost felt like glancing around to see if anyone overheard.

"Then instead of filling your thesis with dates and worn facts, you should write with that passion. Don't worry about how it will be viewed until after you've written it."

"This has to be perfect. I have to stand out," Claire said. "Every student in my field rewrites the same examination without illuminating anything new."

They turned a street corner and passed several hotels with banners welcoming visitors for the festival.

"If the Company wants people that care about their fields of study, then that is how you stand out." Elle said. "Archabold didn't have a reputation with the council because he was simply hardheaded. He was a fearsome and powerful individual that badgered the council into submission more than once—documented, by the way. Write about that side."

Excitement tickled the edge of Claire's thoughts. It was tempting to let go that freely. "I'll think about it," she said. "Thank you."

Elle stopped walking in front of one of the hotels and pulled her to a halt. "My temporary home in this port."

"Oh." Claire glanced up at the building. She had a lot of work to get back to at the school and new ideas swirling around trying to find their place in her mental outline. Her gaze dropped back to Elle's. "Aren't you going to invite me up?"

Elle smiled.

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Claire woke to sunlight peeking past curtains. She opened her eyes and stretched happily. The sheets around her were starched and unfamiliar but she was warm and her entire body relaxed. "I could get used to this," she said, staring at the ceiling.

"I think this was your best tour of the festival yet, Pom Pom." Elle walked into the bedroom from the adjacent toilet. Her hair was wet and dripped down the back of her dark tunic.

Claire raised herself up on her elbows. "Maybe tonight we'll actually make it to the festival."

"Why? We can enact our own consummation pact here." Elle sat on the edge of the bed and leaned down to kiss her.

The scent of soap and fruity shampoo filled Claire's nose as she pulled herself up fully, placed her hand on Elle's neck, and deepened the kiss. That same tickling of power from the previous night was there again, passing into her everywhere their skin touched.

Elle growled low in her throat and pressed her hand against Claire's sheet covered hip. Reluctantly, Claire broke the kiss. "Actually I can't stay."

"You're a tease." Elle nipped at her bottom lip.

Claire closed her eyes, savored it for a moment, and then leaned back. "It's a family thing; I can't avoid it."

"Okay." Elle studied her with a queer look, like she was processing something extremely important. Claire liked that. It had been a long time since some one looked at her so intensely. "Can I see you again tonight?"

"Absolutely."

"Good." Elle smoothed Claire's tussled hair. "The festival will be over before long and I want you to know everything about me before the crowning."

...

...

It was several minutes past the bell when Claire hurried into the dining room. She didn't have time to return to her dorm for a change of clothes so she again wore her student dress. In hindsight she was glad she hadn't dressed for the festival the night before because student attire was at least formal enough for this.

Every fourteen day Angela Petrelli hosted a breakfast for a select collection of guests. Mostly family but occasionally a council member would warrant an invitation as well. She proposed it as a place for lawmakers and the city's elite to come and take a break from policy and tradition.

In truth Claire knew it was a backroom to the capital building where she secured deals without the nosiness of council minders and lessor members.

Thankfully she saw that the dining room was nearly full and no one noticed her slipping in late. Servants were still milling around the impressively long table placing settings and not all the guests had taken their seats yet. Claire breathed a sigh of relief at that.

She passed several city officials and one woman she recognized as a high solicitor. Despite Nathan and Angela's insistence society was in her blood, Claire didn't feel completely at ease here. The Petrelli family was the hub in the wheel of the city and united council but she was just a history apprentice. Even if she gained entry into the Company attending meals like this one, with powerbrokers and dealmakers, was not what she planned.

Claire saw several men near the front of the table in dark hunter clothing. Her father was among them but she didn't recognize the others. She wondered what sort of business hunters could have that Angela would meet with them here.

For a moment she hoped Claude was with them but her mentor wasn't the type of guest welcome at this table. She knew he and her father were partners once but Claude left the field to teach while Noah ascended the ranks. It was a guess based on hazy memories from her childhood but she suspected Angela and Claude, while still friendly in public, did not see eye to eye on very many things in private.

Claire started for her father and then thought better of it and moved down the length of the table. She did a quick scan and took a seat several places down from the head. She was far enough away to avoid uncomfortable conversations with her grandmother and father about her thesis and her lack of progress on it.

Her chair was close enough to the front so not to appear she was avoiding them and still close to her uncle.

Peter Petrelli sat looking every inch the prince in a fitted coat and rich blues of the healer guild. He wore a pin affixed to his collar in the shape of the god of medicine, the symbol of his office at the school.

Claire felt her already good mood improve when he caught sight of her and smiled. She loved her adopted parents and her blood father but reserved a special place for Peter. Even before she knew the truth of Nathan, when the Petrelli family was just the people her father worked for, Peter always treated her kindly and made her feel safe.

When her ability began to manifest, he was the one she went to over everyone else in the family. He supported her decision to pursue History studies when others wondered at her sudden passion for it.

Claire gave him a small wave as she sat and noticed the man to Peter's right. What was it Daphne had called him? Dark Hair Dark Cloak. It was fitting in all but the cloak that she assumed hung in closet somewhere.

Peter's new interest sat in the high backed chair like it was a throne. In complete control with an aura of power about him that Claire could feel from across the table. He was handsome, no denying that, and looked like he belonged there in such an elaborate setting with people serving him. A hawklike gaze seemed to take in the whole room at once and when it settled on Claire she felt something flip in her belly.

She thought about the tales of kings and looking at him, feeling power radiating in an aura around him, it wasn't hard to place Peter's new pet in those stories.

King Gabriel Gray.

He caught her stare and raised his glass in greeting. She nodded in return and forced her attention away. There was something definitely interesting about him, beyond Daphne's interest in the local gossip. Claire made a mental note to seek him out during the crowning day celebration.

Breakfast was ponderous and filled with an overwhelming number of festival dishes. Claire ate a little and picked at the rest. There was polite conversation from the people around her, but she was thankfully far enough way from the political goings on at the head of the hall.

News passed down the ranks like a child's game of stop and go however and she learned that the chancellor was coming for the end of the festival. That wasn't really a surprise to her—Arthur kept his visits to the school to a few times a year but always played them up for appearance sake. The school was decidedly Company, and Angela's, territory.

After a round of _su'lapurs_ that weren't nearly as good as the ones made by street vendors, the breakfast meeting broke apart with loose groups of people lingering by the doors. Avoiding a politician snare, Claire aimed instead for the double glass doors leading to a balcony overlooking the western gardens.

Stepping out of the hall, she saw that someone else had the same idea. "I'm sorry. I thought this was empty."  
>Gabriel waved her out. "There is plenty of room. I was getting some air."<p>

Claire closed the doors behind her and joined him on the edge of the balcony. Beneath them the garden was carefully trimmed and decorated with holly. "The air is nice," she said, "but I'm hiding."

He didn't smile but his eyes did twinkle. "If I'm honest, I'm hiding too."

"I am an expert and finding the best way out of any room in this house. My father used to bring me here all the time on Company business—let's just say politics are not an interest of mine."

Gabriel leaned dangerously far over the railing and peered down. "It's a long way to the ground."

Claire joined him. "I could survive it. But it won't come to that. Once the lessor people leave the real power brokers will retire to my grandmother's office, my father will join them, and his hunters will guard it. Clear route to freedom."

"You've put thought into this."

Claire chuckled. "I have my reasons. What about you? You are the latest news in the city's gossip circle—you should be in there savoring it."

He leaned in as though telling a secret. "I think I'm being saved for the debut tomorrow night. I'm impressed I was let out of my cage for this."

Claire studied him, looking for the signs of an ability in him. "Don't let all the Petrelli pageantry get to you. My advice is slip away as soon as you can and enjoy the crowning out in the street."

"Do you have an escape route for that too?"

"I do, actually." She smiled to herself. "Don't bother with the front entrance, too many merrymakers there to spot you leave and spread scandal. Instead slip into the kitchen and from there take the servant passages to the rear entrance."

"I certainly wouldn't want to cause scandal among the city's elite," he said dryly.

"I have a friend that speaks of our strange city ways like that. She's from out east, too, and just in for the festival."

A shadow passed over his features, so fast if she wasn't looking it would have gone unnoticed. "Is she now? Perhaps we knew each other out there?"

Claire straightened and glanced back into the dining hall. "I don't think so. Big country and all. I think the coast is clear now."

His gaze shifted to the room and then back to her. "Are you sure? Never know when you might overlook someone."  
>Claire took a step back. "I'm going to chance it. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Gray."<p>

"The same…Claire."

...

...

The meet place was an open air cafe deep in the north end of the city, far from the eyes of the Company. Elle's partner had picked it out himself. Keeping with their set routine she found a table in the back and calmly watched the morning foot and carriage traffic.

Her partner sat at the table beside hers. "Lovely weather today," he said.

"It is. Much better than this time last year."

The all clear given, he turned to face her. "Any problems with Claire Bennet?"

"None." Elle didn't mention that they had spent the night together. "She trusts me completely."

"Excellent. Have you told her why you are here?"

"Not in so many words," Elle admitted. "I've planted the seeds though. What we are asking is huge for someone like her. I'm nudging in the right direction."

Her partner shook his head. "That won't be good enough, Elle. I've been trying that for months now without results—that is why I wanted you. Thanks to Peter Petrelli we no longer have the time to waste. You need to convince Claire to join us and soon."

Elle knew Claire was closer to accepting the truth than he thought, she saw it in her eyes when she spoke of the wizards last night, but said, "I understand. It will be done."

"Good. We are all depending on you." Her partner glanced around, made sure no one was watching, and vanished from the chair he was sitting in. Elle didn't blink at that. By now she was used to the type of exit Claude Rains made.

...

...

When Claire returned to her dorm room she found a neatly wrapped bundle waiting for her. Perched on top was a folded note and Claire smiled when she read the now familiar scrawl:

_Came to the school in person this time but you were still gone. Should have used the kid again._  
><em>Yours,<em>  
><em>E<em>

She carefully set the card aside and opened the bundle. Inside she found a leather bound journal. The pages were blank, clean, and crisp underneath her fingers. By itself it was a wonderful gift but there was a second book. Obviously used and well read. The soft cover practically opened by itself at her touch showing pages marked and binding worn over favorite chapters.

Its title was _Secret Orders of the Monarchy_.


End file.
